Five Times Series
by Tarafina
Summary: Their relationship was a bit complicated... Fate has a sense of humor. Chloe/Oliver
1. 5 Times Oliver Queen Was Jealous

**Title: **Five Times Series  
**Rating**: K to M  
**Genre**: Romance/Humor  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Oliver. Chloe/Others (transition pairings)  
**Summary**: Their relationship was a bit complicated... Fate has a sense of humor.

**_Five Times Series_**

"_5 Times Oliver Queen Was Jealous_"

**I **

Oliver Queen was not happy. Standing around him was Chloe Sullivan, on watch with him that night for the benefit, and Bruce Wayne. The two were deep in discussion, involving flailing hand movements, giggling, blushing, and sarcastic quips at every turn. Oliver stood glumly, his champagne flute held tight in his hand as he smiled wanly whenever Chloe grinned her Sullivan-mega-watt grin at him. She was having the time of her life; apparently Bruce was just the greatest guy. Oliver had asked her to accompany him as his date seeing as it was a rather big event and she had a keen eye for investigating. There may have been some small almost unrecognizable inclination on his part to simply have her with him out of rather selfish reasons. She was an interesting woman; snarky, intelligent, rather dangerous in the grand scheme of things, and had a drive that he rarely saw anymore.

"No, no, no," Chloe said, shaking her head and grinning as she laughed heartily at something Bruce had said. "You've got it all wrong!"

"_I've _got it wrong?" Bruce replied, his brow lifted and a very small smile appearing. "You're know, you're really quite tenacious, Ms. Sullivan." It sounded like a compliment and Oliver swallowed the desire to roll his eyes.

"One of the many things I've been called, yes," she admitted, lifting a shoulder.

"I'd venture a guess beautiful and brilliant were among the list," Bruce flirted.

Oliver scowled. He simply couldn't imagine what a brooding man like Bruce Wayne would want with a lively and exciting woman like Chloe Sullivan! It was a match made in hell.

"Why, Mr. Wayne, I believe you're hitting on me," she replied cheekily, her cheeks somewhat flushed.

Oliver's eyes narrowed. She couldn't really think he was her type, could she?

"I prefer the term charming."

Chloe smiled, rolling her eyes slightly. "Do you think it's working?"

"You tell me," Bruce replied, lifting a hand to lightly brush away her bangs from her face.

The champagne flute was crushed beneath Oliver's grip.

Chloe turned to him quickly, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. "Oh my… Ollie, are you okay?" she asked, handing her glass of champagne to Wayne and reaching for Oliver's hand.

"You'll stain your dress," he protested as she cradled his hand close to her, blood dripping down onto the white satin material.

She snorted. "I think this is a little more important," she told him, reaching out and taking his handkerchief from his coat pocket, wrapping the soft green linen around his hand and holding it tightly. "Come on, let's go to the bathroom, wash this up."

"I can do it myself," he told her, feeling completely ridiculous for what had happened.

"What? No. Now come on," she said, dragging him off through the crowd. "Looks like you don't know your own strength," she teased.

Oliver shrugged, glancing at Bruce to see a rather knowing expression on his old friends face. What?

**II **

Admittedly, he didn't have any powers. He had high priced gadgets and he spent hours working on himself to make sure he was in great physical shape for the work he did. He meditated, did yoga, practiced with his arrows until his fingers bled. And he was a top notch hero! He always got the job done and he never walked away from someone in need. While he knew a number of other capable and strong heroes, most of who worked with him in the League, he didn't know this guy.

"Thank you," Chloe told the stranger, brushing herself off and taking her purse from his outstretched arm. "Really. I appreciate it. There aren't enough good people out there!"

"No, it was no problem, really," the man replied, smiling warmly. "Anybody would've done it."

"Really? You'll have to give me 'anybody's' number because I've had my purse snatched at least a dozen times and rarely does anyone go out of their way to help me get it back," she told him, chuckling.

Oliver rolled his eyes. Had it been three seconds earlier, _he _would've been there to get her purse back _and_ he would've kept her from being pushed to the ground for it as well. But he'd shown up just three second late and now Average Joe had saved the day. His stomach twisted up at the thought and he couldn't help but think it was downright stupid for him to be reacting this way. He should _want _more people to help but instead he was wishing this guy was like everybody else. Someone who would turn a blind eye to the yelling of someone who'd just had their stuff stolen from them. The culprit lay moaning on the ground, clutching his stomach and rolling around in pain. He wouldn't be going anywhere soon and the cops would be by to get him in a few minutes. Now if only Average Joe would go away or Chloe would just leave…

"Look, I'm just glad you're okay. Everything's there, right?" Average Joe asked, pointing at her purse.

Chloe nodded, smiling. "Yeah, he didn't get far. Thanks to you."

Oliver mimicked her, brooding in the darkness of the alley.

The shrill whine of the cop cars approaching met his ears and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Uh, I can tell them everything if you need to be somewhere," the man told her, nodding.

"Oh? Really? I'd really appreciate it," she told him thankfully.

"Yeah, sure. It's nothing. Do you have a number I can give them?" he asked, shaking his head slowly in question.

Oliver snorted. Yeah! Right! Like he was getting her number for the police!

"Oh. Sure," she said, pulling a pen out and scrawling her number down on a piece of paper and handing it to him. "Thanks again," she said, waving before she turned and walked down the alley.

"Have a nice night, Miss," Average Joe called out to her.

Oliver glared at him.

"Nice work, leather boy," Chloe said as she met up with him in the alley.

"I was almost there," he replied rather childishly.

"Almost being the operative word." She grinned up at him cheekily. "I know you would've been there Ollie. He just happened to be there first. That's good, right? Be happy. Not everybody who lives here is out to let crime overrun it." She reached out, her hand wrapping around his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

They walked down the alley, silent for a moment.

"He was kind of cute, right?" she asked, interrupting the quiet.

He groaned.

She laughed, shrugging. "I'm just saying. It seems like all the heroes these days are getting more handsome!"

He looked over at her, lifting a brow.

She simply smiled.

**III **

He couldn't believe this was happening. He introduced his best friend to the girl he was secretly infatuated with and now Roy couldn't stop flirting with her! Roy had dropped by to talk work and Chloe had already been at his apartment, going over some information she'd dug up on somebody they'd been investigating the last few weeks. And now Roy was telling Chloe her hair was the softest thing he'd ever touched in his life and she was blushing and telling him he was a horrible liar.

"No, it's true." Roy's fingers twisted a tendril of her blonde hair around his finger and smiled at her warmly. It dropped lower, grazing her shoulder and she shifted her weight to one side. "I'm going to venture a guess you're soft all over."

Chloe's brows lifted. "Is charm an ingrained characteristic of all heroes these days?" she joked, smiling.

Roy laughed, shrugging. "I'm actually one of few. Just a natural talent of mine."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, her mouth twist with amusement. She looked over at Oliver. "And how about you Ollie? Were you born with that charm of yours?"

He half-smiled, hoping she didn't realize he was actually grimacing. "Learned it all from Roy," he said, gripping his best friend's shoulder rather tightly.

Chloe's mouth opened in an 'o' and she looked back to Roy, who shrugged with fake modesty.

"Any other talents I should know about?" she asked, her body language telling Oliver a whole lot more than he wanted to know. The way she tilted her head back made the sun hit her hair and it shined like spun gold. One of her small hands landed on her hips as her body leaned to one side, emphasizing her beautiful curves. He bit the inside of his cheek and forced his eyes away from the soft swell of her breasts beneath her blouse.

"You'll just have to find that out on your own," Roy told her, smirking.

"Are you offering me an exclusive, Mr. Harper?" she queried, her shoulders stiffening as if in journalistic interest.

Roy reached out, the tip of his finger trailing up the underside of her chin in a rather intimate movement. "Any time," he said, his voice low and deep.

Oliver cleared his throat, his temper beginning to rise. "Well," he said, clapping his hands together. "Speedy here really needs to get back to work." He nodded, ignoring Roy's lifted brow and amused smirk. "Chloe? You want to bring those files up on my computer? In my office? Now," he said, motioning.

Chloe smiled up at him, nodding. "Sure Ollie." She was walking away a moment later and he didn't resist the urge to slap Roy in the back of the head as he stared at Chloe's butt as she left. His best friend simply laughed and Oliver got the feeling it was more at him than anything.

**IV **

They were watching a movie. He didn't know what it was because half the time, he'd spent thinking about how warm her thigh felt against his. Clark had left early, something about Lana. Bart was asleep on the arm chair and AC was debating with Victor over which was a better actor. He was pretty sure AC was basing his opinion on the actor's charity background for marine life.

Chloe was sitting next to him, almost leaned up against his side. There was a bowl of half-eaten, room temperature popcorn on her lap that they always seemed to reach for at the same time. He felt like a fifteen year old boy on a date; sweaty palms, butterflies, and uncertainty very much included. It was just a friend thing. Still, they were sharing the couch just the two of them and she made all of her comments on the movie directly to him, in a half-whisper that made him lean closer.

He had no idea what was going on in the movie but she seemed enthralled by it all. He was contemplating what she might do if he tried to put his arm around her. But with all the people in the room, he figured he'd just look stupid if any of them noticed. So he kept his arms firmly at his sides, the fingers on one hand drumming against his leg in boredom.

Chloe squirmed next to him, glancing up at him from beneath her bangs, her vibrant green eyes making the butterflies in his stomach dance. "So let's say you were a girl…"

He grinned, chuckling. "Am I going to like where this is going?" he asked, lifting a brow.

She smiled, shrugging slightly. "Probably not." She shook her head. "So let's say you're a girl," She motioned to the TV. " Orlando Bloom – Hot or Not?"

He frowned. "Not."

"What?" she asked, her voice raising slightly. "How is he not? He's… He's Orlando Bloom!" she said, laughing. "He's gorgeous. Those brown eyes and the curly black hair that you could totally run your hands through and… Really? You're not thinking like a girl are you?" She thinned one eye, lifting the brow of the other as if interrogating him somehow.

Was it wrong that he considered dying his hair black in that moment?

"He's just not…" He turned to the TV, staring at the man for a moment. "What's so great about him? I don't get it."

"He's… I don't know. He's just handsome. I mean…" She sighed. "He kind of looks like a younger Johnny Depp. Now, you can't tell me _he_ isn't hot!" Her eyes widened as if she was warning him that he wasn't allowed to speak ill of _The Johnny Depp_. He chose not to, although inside he was mocking the man. " Orlando has a sort of… goofy charm, I guess."

"Oh it's Orlando now, huh?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

She blushed slightly, lifting a shoulder. "It's just easier."

"Then what? Saying his whole name?" he teased.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "This would be easier if you were a girl."

"Sorry my gender isn't swappable," he replied rather moodily.

She was quiet for a moment, frowning at the TV. Finally, ten minutes later, she blurted out, "So you don't think he's good looking at all?"

Oliver threw his hands up, his brows lifting and his eyes turned up in aggravation. "No. I really don't."

"What about George Clooney?" she asked, turning in her seat to face him.

Oliver turned to her, expression stiff. "Why are we having this conversation?"

"Why not?" she replied simply.

He sighed. "I guess George Clooney is… okay?" he said, his expression one of confusion. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Just want to know what your type is?"

"My type? Of men?" He snorted. "Firmly straight, thanks."

She giggled, shaking her head. "Don't worry; I never doubted your sexuality."

He lifted a brow. "You think about my sexuality a lot?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know whose sexuality I think of a lot?"

He frowned. "No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me," he muttered. He settled into the couch. Suddenly the night didn't seem as great as he'd once thought.

**V **

He was pretty sure he just died. Heart attack… Shock… Lack of air since he forgot to breathe. She was stunning! She was all dressed up in a gown so form fitting he swore he could map out every inch of her with his eyes. It was green, too. For some reason that made him feel good.

She was putting an earring on, checking it in the mirror at her side.

He was standing dumbstruck in her living room. Finally, he found his voice. "Going somewhere Sidekick or do you always answer the door dressed like that?"

She grinned at him, rolling her eyes. "Actually," she said, drawing the word out. "I have a date."

He choked on air.

"Ollie? Are you okay?" she asked, hurrying over to him, reaching a hand out and pressing it against his chest as he managed to get himself under control.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, sure," he told her, clearing his throat and nodding. "So, uh, who's the lucky guy?" he asked, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

She reached up, righting his tie against his shirt. "Just some guy from work."

"Some guy for work," he repeated, nodding. "Must be _some _guy if you're dressed up like this."

She looked up at him and he felt momentarily out of breath as her eyes caught his. "He's taking me out to this fancy restaurant," she explained, shaking her head and shrugging.

"Oh," he managed, nodding.

"So?" she asked, lifting a brow.

"So?" he returned, confused.

She chuckled. "Why are you here? Did you need help with something?" she wondered, turning and walking toward her room to get a shawl she'd left on her bed.

"Uh…" He lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. He was actually going to ask her to get something to eat with him. It was sort of a spontaneous thing. He'd been driving and wound up in front of her place and before he knew it, he was knocking on her door in hopes that she'd be interested in getting some take out Chinese and just watching late night television. "I- I can't remember. I guess I was just, you know, in the area."

Her brow furrowed. "In the area, huh?"

He nodded dumbly.

There was a knock at the door behind him and he felt his stomach drop out.

"Oh, there he is," she said, smiling at him as she walked across the room and opened the door. Oliver told himself not to look, but his feet didn't listen and he turned around. He looked nice enough, he supposed.

"Ollie, this is my date, Jordan. Jordan this is Ollie, my…" She trailed off for a moment before shaking her head. "Uh, my friend. My really good friend."

Jordan held a hand out and Oliver shook it, a little harsher than needed.

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," Oliver muttered.

"Well, Chloe, we should go. We have reservations," Jordan told her, reaching out to take her hand.

"Right, sure." She nodded before turning back to Oliver. "All right, so…" She shrugged slightly, her wrap falling down her arm a little. "I guess I'll see you when you remember whatever it was you forgot."

He nodded jerkily before reaching out and lifting the fallen end of her wrap, putting it back onto her shoulder and letting his hand rest there a second. "Have fun," he said quietly.

She stared at him a moment, indecision in her face. "I will," she finally said.

He watched her leave, feeling jealousy stir in his stomach. He couldn't believe how cowardly he was being, but there was nothing he could do now. He'd wasted every chance he got and he was just going to have to suffer through it. With a frown, he left her apartment, locking it behind him. As he walked to the car, he decided he was going to do a background check on this Jordan guy. He was sure he could dig up something!

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Hope you enjoyed this. The next installment is called "**5 Times Chloe Nearly Died**." Be sure to check out the banner to this story on my profile page! Reviews are sustenance, readers! Luv yas - Fina!_


	2. 5 Times Chloe Nearly Died

**Rating**: T  
**Summary**: Their relationship was a bit complicated... Fate has a sense of humor.

**_Five Times Series_**

"_5 Times Chloe Nearly Died_" 

**I **

Okay, she really needed to exercise more. This running thing was harder than it looked. She ducked, wincing as shots sounded around her and bullets collided with the ground in front of her. Of course, fleeing while being shot at made it a _little _harder. She should be used to this by now, but… She mumbled swear words and ridiculous named for the idiots trying to gun her down and missing horribly. If she was a bad guy, she'd make sure all of her henchmen were great shots. All it would take was one good aim and bam! Never have to worry about that pesky reporter again. Although, in her current position, she rather appreciated the fact that Lex still lacked the sense to get his bad guys trained.

They were on the roofs, bullets hailing down on her from above. And she had, stupidly, worn heels! Still, she had to admit, burning lungs and her strong need to pee aside, she was totally getting out of this scrape too. She frowned. She just knew the boys of the League were going to have something to say about this. But really, it wasn't her fault. It was a last minute thing and there was no real choice in the matter. She had to be there so she was there. And this was the greeting she got!

Even as the gunfire faded, she continued to run. Her legs hurt, she wasn't sure she'd ever breathe normally again, and she desperately needed a bathroom. There were no footsteps or speeding cars chasing after her so she assumed nobody was tailing her. Still, she thought it better to get home as quick as possible and go over what she'd recorded. As she rounded a corner, she ran straight into green leather and muscle. Were it any other moment, she might relish it. After all, Oliver had a nice chest.

His arms wrapped around her to keep her from falling. "Whoa, whoa!"

She gasped, looking up at him through large, round eyes. "Hey," she choked out on a raspy breath.

"Hey? That's all you have to say? You were just outdoing the Road Runner, what's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head quickly. She _really _did not want to hear his safety spiel at the moment. She knew she messed up, she didn't need him reminding her how close she could've been to death. "Just getting some exercise!"

"Exerci—" He cut himself off, his brows furrowing. His hand wrapped around her right arm and lifted it. She looked down, spotting blood and suddenly feeling a rush of pain she'd been too distracted to really feel. "Have you been shot?" he asked incredulously, his voice distorted but noticeably harsh. "Who the hell shot you?"

She winced, biting her lip and looking up at him rather apologetically. "Uh… some henchmen, on a roof, it was all kind of dark to really pinpoint exactly who—"

"Chloe," he interrupted, shaking her slightly.

She sighed. "Okay, so, I had a tip and there wasn't much time and…" She shrugged slightly, mouth pinching.

"So you went alone?" he asked, lifting a hand and throwing his hood back, clicking his distorter off with ease. "What were you thinking?" He shook his head. "Scratch that. You _weren't _thinking."

She bristled. "Listen Ollie, I get that you're worried. But you need to remember that I've been doing this a lot longer than you've been playing superhero. I know what I was doing."

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Your gunshot wound really screams capable!"

She rolled her eyes. "It's barely a flesh wound."

"It's a _wound_ and that's all that matters!"

"Stop yelling," she shouted.

He took a deep breath, lifting a hand and covering his face for a moment, gathering himself. "I just need to know that you're going to be okay when I'm not there."

"I'm alive aren't I?" she asked, her voice rather soft.

He didn't reply right away. His thumb was stroking her arm gently. "Just be careful. Please." His tone was low, almost husky, and filled with worry.

She immediately felt bad for doing something so selfish. She hadn't realized he'd be so worried.

"Hey," she said, her tone light as she reached out and wrapped her hand around his forearm, squeezing it reassuringly. "This is just another day in the life of Chloe Sullivan, right?" she joked. "Nothing to worry about. No bullet wound is taking me down!"

He smiled, nodding. "Come on. We should get that cleaned up." He put his sunglasses back on and flipped his hood back up. A few minutes later, she was swinging through the air on a rope, Oliver's arm tight around her. Oddly, with nothing but air beneath her, she'd never felt more safe.

**II **

Chloe sat tied to a very uncomfortable steel chair. Tape was tightly covering her mouth; the guard was tired of her running commentary on how ugly he was apparently. She was dressed to the nines in red leather, a black wig shielding her hair and a pair of black sunglasses; all courtesy of the League when she was initiated as a full fledge member. Currently, however, Watchtower was feeling pretty low. Their big mission had turned sour, with her being caught, bound, and waiting for execution. Any minute now, some thug was going to open the door, point a gun at her head, tell her it was all in the name of some absurd idealism and kill her. She'd been through the motions; she knew how it went.

As if on cue, the heavy door was thrown open, creaking slightly. Somebody should oil it or something, it sort of takes away from the evilness of it all. A man in a tailored suit entered, a scar running the line of his jaw and a sneer on his pock scarred face. "They sent a woman?" he asked, his voice clearly amused.

"Don't let her fool, ya, boss! She's a feisty one," her guard told him, his thick arms locked behind his back.

_Boss _simply curled his lip in disdain and pulled a black shiny gun from his waist. Silencer equipped. Puh – typical.

"You're in the wrong business, girlie," _Boss _told her.

If her mouth hadn't been taped, she would've had some choice words for the puts.

He lifted his gun, taking the safety off with an easy flick of his thumb and aimed it directly at her face. She stared down the barrel, her stomach twisting tight. What did it mean that Oliver's was the face that filled her mind in that moment?

_Boss's _finger slid against the trigger and Chloe's eyes fell shut in wait.

She heard the arrow slip from the quiver and a shiver ran down her spine. She'd spent hours with Oliver, learning how to handle his bow. She knew that sound just as well as his voice. Two arrows left his bow and two men fell to the floor. Her eyes opened as Oliver tugged the tape gently from her mouth and she stared into his worried brown eyes.

"Watchtower," he said simply, but even the distorter couldn't hide the slight shake of his voice.

"Green Arrow," she replied, hoping he didn't hear the fear mixed with relief in her own.

He quickly cut her ropes from her and took her hand, drawing her up from her seat. He stood mere inches from her and for a moment, she thought he might just kiss her. He hugged her instead, held her tightly for a moment longer than needed.

"_Green Arrow? Do you have Watchtower_?" she heard in his earpiece. Hers had been taken away upon her kidnapping.

"Positive. Watchtower's safe," Olive replied. He pulled back from the embrace and immediately his serious persona was back in place. "You ready to get out of here, Sidekick?"

"I was ready ten minutes ago. What took you so long?" she replied, her mouth quirking with a smile.

He grinned back.

**III **

She couldn't believe this was happening to her _again_. She was buried, who-knows-how-far-down, in her car, of all things. From what she could tell, she seemed to be in a giant sandpit. The windows were cracking from the pressure, any second now she was sure that the sand would fill the car and she'd be a goner. Some might regret writing a huge expose on a drug ring boss, but she just couldn't summon it inside her. Instead she was rather proud that her death came about from her fighting for justice. She could live with that… Er, metaphorically.

So here she was with a splitting headache, thinning air and a formerly pretty nice car about to be entirely trashed. She pondered who knew where she was and the likelihood of being saved. She'd already tried screaming at the top of her lungs in hopes that Clark would hear her. No hero in tights so far. Or leather for that matter. 

Was it finally the demise of the intrepid reporter? She frowned. Death was a lot slower than she thought it'd be. Dramatic, she supposed. Or maybe she wasn't meant to wake up at all and simply choke on the sand that filled her car as she lay unconscious. Hm, not really a drug lord's M.O.

The window at her side shattered and sand began pouring in. Her car was small to begin with, but she figured moving to the back would give her a little while longer. She was getting dizzy from the thin air. The sand filled the front seat in a matter of seconds. Maybe death wasn't so slow after all.

She could hear something, like scurrying. Her back pressed against the trunk window, her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. The rustling was coming from behind her. She turned her head, her jaw tightening as she felt sand at her feet, rising to surround her ankles. Hands! She could see hands, digging. The sand was getting lower at the back, being thrown from around the car. Two, four, six, eight, ten hands digging her out. The boys – _her _boys. The sand was up to her knees now and she felt panic in her chest overwhelm her.

"Cover your face," she heard and then the glass behind her was shattered and those hands were pulling her out from the back of the car. She was stuck in a group hug between five men. She sat in Oliver's lap, his arms around her. Clark's head was on top of hers, she could feel Bart at her back, Victor patting her shoulder and AC rubbing her arm reassuringly.

"Jesus Christ," she heard Oliver mutter. She could feel his heart racing at her back and his hands were shaking against her stomach.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she repeated over and over, more for them than herself.

She felt Oliver's forehead against her shoulder as he sighed.

"You shouldn't be allowed out on your own anymore, Chloelicious," Bart told her. "Keeping you out of trouble is a full time job. Seriously! It's exhausting."

She laughed, tears springing to her eyes. She never felt happier to be surrounded by these people in her entire life. If they were nobody else's, these five were her private heroes for all time.

"Is anybody else hungry?" Bart wondered.

**IV **

Somewhere up there, God was laughing at her. He was marking another line on his tally of how many times she could face death and survive. He had a cruel sense of humor. Maybe it was her fault, or maybe… No, it was her fault. She knew the building was going to blow and still she ran headfirst into it, searching for the proof she needed to send another dirt bag away to jail. If the bomb didn't get her, Oliver was going to stick her head on a pike.

She was racing down the stairs, the doors in sight and the many folders she needed under her arm. She just knew something was going to happen; the heel of her shoe would break, the door would be locked, _something_. She was so close; too close to getting away scott free. She wondered exactly what part of her head her father had dropped her on that had instilled this stupidity inside of her to run inside of ready-to-blow buildings. All in the name of justice, repeated in her head, over and over. They could put that on her headstone. Ah, epitaphs were overrated. She didn't relish the idea of being buried for a _third _time anyway. If she was blown up would there even be a body for them to bury? Hey, the cremation might just be free. Save Ollie a buck he doesn't really need anyway.

It was amazing that she could still think. She was a foot from her escape and somehow she was snarking off in her head.

She heard an explosion in the background, felt the ground beneath her shake just as her hand found the handle to the front door. It opened with a whoosh. The crowd surrounding the building behind the police barrier was pretty far away to keep from being killed by debris and with what she just heard, she was fairly certain she wasn't home free in the least.

She still ran though. Her feet had never moved so fast in all her life. She could hear the building crumbling behind her, the heat of the fire and the shattering of glass as it flew out over the pavement around her. She just kept running; the crowd became closer and closer with each step.

She could see a familiar face ahead of her and suddenly it didn't seem so far. Oliver managed to knock a police office out of the way and jump the barrier, running a small distance and grabbing hold of her before turning around and running them both back toward safety. She breathed a little easier in that moment, although she knew she was about to be yelled at, any second now.

He took her hand and kept running, pushing through the crowd until they were standing in a dark, deserted alley. "What were you thinking?" he yelled, his voice echoing through the alley.

"That if we didn't get these files that bastard would get away with it. All of it. And I couldn't let that happen," she told him, her chin lifted with pride. "I know it was risky—"

"Risky?" he repeated, his voice shaking with his anger. "You just ran into a building strapped to blow up any second!"

"I'm well aware," she muttered.

His hands gripped her shoulders tightly, drawing her forward and shaking her abruptly. "What goes on in that head of yours, I'll never know!"

She looked up at him, her expression rather calm. "Trust me, you're better off."

He blew out a tense breath, shaking his head and staring at her sternly. And then he was leaning in, pressing his forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes, feeling the fear shake her from head to toe. Just as her knees were about to give out, his arms wrapped around her, holding her up.

"You're okay," he murmured, his face falling to her shoulder. She could feel his breath against her neck. "You're okay," he told her, repeatedly, until she stopped shaking.

She gripped the front of his coat tightly in the balls of her fists, her face buried against his chest. Sometimes, her job really sucked.

**V **

She hated hospital food. More than any other food there was. She'd gladly eat a whole barrel of peas and broccoli as long as she never had to eat hospital food again. Currently, she was supposed to be resting. She had a broken arm, a laceration on her forehead, a terrible headache and her ribs hurt every time she breathed. Which unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) was often. She'd been brought in barely an hour ago and knew that any second her League of boys were going to swarm in ranting and raving and trying to comfort her with teddy bears and coffee. It was sweet but unwanted at the moment. While she was tired, she couldn't seem to shut her brain off long enough to go to sleep. She felt wired and on edge and less than safe in a dim room with basically nobody there to call out to.

She often wondered what put her in the place she was. What kept her going, fighting, getting hurt just to serve the world of justice and get kicked around for it. She couldn't count how many times she'd been in the hospital, how many bullets had been shot at her, how many people vowed she was taking her last breath; it was all in the job description. Still, lying in a stiff, uncomfortable bed with scratchy white sheets over a barely-there hospital gown, she felt like this was one of those days where justice deserve a sharp kick in the ass and a wave goodbye.

And then she looked up from the crappy soap opera on her TV and saw _him _standing in her doorway.

He half-smiled at her, looking more tired than anything. "You're killing me, Sidekick," he sighed.

She rolled her eyes. "I believe _I'm _the one in the hospital bed here, Queen."

Shaking his head, he walked into the room, dragging a chair up to sit down beside her. "I've known you for about a year and I think I've spent most of my time wondering what kind of trouble you're in."

She shrugged slightly, wincing at the pain in her arm. "It's part of the package."

He nodded, his mouth quirked. "Yeah, I've noticed."

She stared at him a moment, taking in his unusually haggard appearance. "I'm sorry I worried you," she said, her brows furrowing.

He shook his head, eyes falling to stare at her bed a moment. He didn't reply right away, jaw clenched. Finally, he reached out and took her hand in his, their fingers threading. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She smiled. "Remember that next time you think about yelling at me for something like this."

He chuckled.

She yawned.

"You should rest," he told her, his thumb stroking the underside of her hand.

She shook her head. "Mm, no. Not tired," she murmured sleepily.

He stood up, gently placing her hand back down on the bed. He leaned forward, brushing her bangs off her face and kissed her forehead, lingering a second. "Get some rest, Watchtower."

She wrinkled her nose.

She could feel his smile despite the fact that her eyes had drifted shit. She felt his hand against her cheek, fingers caressing her skin as she fell into slumber. "Don't leave," she managed to get out in a tired slur.

"I'll be here when you wake up," he promised.

She knew he would. He always was. He was the first face she saw every time she got hurt. There was something both sad and comforting in that. She didn't have much time to ponder it as the relaxing stroke of his fingers against her cheek lulled her to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Reviews are sustenance, readers! Luv yas - Fina!_


	3. 5 Times Chloe Dated a JL Member

**Rating**: T  
**Summary**: Their relationship was a bit complicated... Fate has a sense of humor.

**_Five Times Series_**

"_5 Times Chloe Dated a Justice League Member_"

**I **

She wondered for the sixth time that afternoon, why she was on a date with Clark Kent. Years ago, this would've been the highlight of her life. But at the moment, all she could think was that he had mustard on the side of his mouth and she wanted to bug him about it. Not like a girlfriend, who would reach out and wipe it away, all intimate and sensual like. But like a best friend that felt at ease with a guy she'd known since puberty. There were no butterflies in her stomach, her heartbeat didn't speed up and the smile she sent him was genuine but friendly. She just couldn't find those long unrequited feelings that used to fill her to the brim.

"Mom told me to say hi for her," he told her, tongue peeking out to lick his lips, taking away the mustard as he lifted his sandwich up to his mouth once more.

She nodded. "How is Mrs. K? I haven't seen her in awhile."

"Good," he told her, nodding, mouth half-full. He swallowed after barely chewing. She would blame it on his being basically impenetrable, but it's just normal male behavior. He probably wouldn't have done it had he been out with Lana, but she's used to that by now. He talked awhile about his mom and she laughed and smiled. She knew Mrs. Kent pretty good and so understands a lot of what Clark means when he talked about her habit of cooking for a whole tribe of people when only one was coming over. Or how she still acted like he could bruise like normal kids and so treated him like he was twelve rather than twenty-something. Oddly, she sometimes considered Mrs. Kent like a substitute mother. Which doesn't bode well for her being on a date with her son.

They're supposed to go to a movie after this, which she knows will be awkward. He'll try and put his arm around her, probably with that ridiculous yawn ploy that he still hasn't learned is obvious. And she'll find the weight of his arm around her stifling. The idea that he might try to kiss her makes her squirm uncomfortably. She couldn't believe it, but she was actually over Clark Kent. Years of unrequited love and butterflies and jealousy that she was never like Lana, all down the drain. Just when he finally got it together and asked her out.

She laughed. She doesn't mean to, but she did. It was loud and not at all feminine. Her eyes filled with tears and her face flushed red as she covered it with her hands.

He chuckled, eyes looking around in confusion.

She shook her head, catching her breath. "I'm sorry," she told him breathlessly. "This isn't working."

He sighed, relief covering his face.

"You're my _best _friend, Clark. But that's… That's _all _you are." She grinned widely.

"I feel the same way," he told her, his smile widening with genuine sincerity. He took a gulp of his milk, sitting back in his chair, a whole lot less stiff since the date started and ended.

She lifted a brow. "Nice milk mustache, El Suavo."

He laughed, licking his lip and rolling his eyes. "So… Just wondering, uh… Is Lois seeing anybody?"

Again, she laughed. She _so _saw that one coming!

**II **

This was not her usual kind of date. She and AC were picketing, with signs and shouting and rhyming rants._ Save the dolphins_, they were shouting. It was fun on a deep down rights activist way, but she wouldn't call it date material. Arthur Curry was not her usual type, at all. But he was nice and funny and completely adorable when he started talking about the rights all oceanic beings have. So she went along with it, agreeing to his asking her out and wound up walking around on heels that weren't meant for picketing, holding a sign that was a lot heavier than it looked.

When he wasn't shouting statistics and tearing down the people inside who were ignoring them, he talked to her.

"We're usually done some time around five. That's when most of the workers go home, so…"

"What? No chaining ourselves to the building or anything?" she teased, mouth quirking.

He laughed good-naturedly. "Unfortunately, I don't think they'll turn the sprinklers on for me."

She rolled her eyes, amused. "Are we going to get something to eat after this, because frankly I think I just worked off all of this week's meals."

"Yeah," he agreed nodding. "I know a great vegan place!"

He sounded excited, so she didn't burst his bubble.

"You know, this is kind of weird," he told her, his arm raising and falling to show his sign off as he turned to her.

"Yeah?" She didn't often rally for the rights of fish, so he had her there.

"Yeah, I mean… I feel like I'm poaching on my boss's girl, right?" He lifted a brow, eyes inquisitive as they stared at her.

"Boss's girl," she repeated questioningly.

"Yeah." His brow furrowed. "Ollie obviously likes you, so—"

She broke out into laughter. "No, he doesn't!" she exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously.

His mouth pursed and his eyes danced with amusement. His head tipped to the side, as if asking her silently if she really thought that.

Her and Oliver were good friends, had been for a few years. They'd been close, given their work relationship. She spent most of her time with him, seeing as she was Watchtower and her place of business in that regard was his apartment, surrounded by all of his expensive little gadgets. Perhaps they were a little closer than some friends. But that didn't mean that he had feelings for her in that way. And she didn't… She didn't, did she? She shook her head. "Look, Ollie and I are friends and whatever you think his feelings are, you've got it wrong."

AC shrugged. "You say so." He licked his lips. "I still think this is kinda weird though."

"Me too," she assured with a smile.

"So this date's a bit of a bust, huh?" he asked, shoulders slumping slightly. "You know, it's kind of hard to find a girl that'll come to rally's with you."

She reached out, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll find her Fins," she teased with a smile.

He gave her a withering stare, opening his mouth to reply, but instead found himself interrupted.

"Excuse me," a woman said. "I'm looking for Arthur Curry. I heard he was the one that put this together and I just wanted to tell him that his work is so incredible."

Chloe and AC exchanged a look before he turned toward the willowy brunette with the stunning smile. "Call me AC, and I'm at your service."

Chloe rolled her eyes before walking back out to picket once more, wondering if anybody would notice if she took her heels off.

**III **

"How's the mow, _seniorita_?" Bart asked from across the table.

She was starting to worry that she was going to get a reputation as the League skank. She'd dated at least three of their members in the last few weeks. She couldn't remember exactly how Bart had convinced her to go on a date with him. She'd been softly rejecting him for the last few years, but now she was sitting across from him in a Chinese restaurant while he continued to throw out Spanish words.

"Mow's good," she replied, smiling slightly.

Bart was… funny, sweet, handsome and utterly adorable, but she honestly couldn't stop thinking about him as anything more than a little brother. Which made the situation rather gross considering his constant hints that he thought she was beautiful and he'd like to kiss her and he was so glad that she'd finally said yes to a date.

"Have I told you you're looking pretty _fuerte_ tonight, Chloelicious?" he asked, lifting a brow and smirking at her. His best feature had to be those green eyes of his; combined with that charming smile he could be a real lady killer. Unfortunately, this lady wasn't interested in _that _way.

"A few times," she told him, lifting her iced tea to her mouth.

He shrugged, dimples showing as he grinned. "Had to be said."

She reached her hand out, covering his and felt bad when he squirmed slightly before tracing her palm with his thumb.

He sighed. "This is about the time you tell me you like me but you'd rather be friends," he said, before she could.

Her expression widened with surprise.

He chuckled rather quietly. "Hey, I know you're not feeling it." He shook his head. "I was hoping I could change your mind. But, alas…" he said dramatically, eyes turning up. "The girl's heart has already been taken."

Her brow furrowed. "Bart, there isn't someone else, I just—"

"Chlo," he said, cutting her off. "Trust me, there's someone else."

She shook her head, not understanding.

He squeezed her hand before letting go. "So how PO'd would you be if I dined and dashed us out of here?" he wondered, lifting a brow.

She frowned.

He laughed. "Yeah, that's the face I thought you'd make. So I borrowed Ollie's credit card!"

She tried not to laugh, but failed.

**IV **

They were talking computers. Not exactly date conversation, but she'd let that pass for now. If there was anyone who could match, or even outdo her in the hacking area, it was the half-computer himself, Cyborg. Victor was a nice guy, a little serious for her taste, but a good friend nonetheless. He'd asked her out for a drink and they went to a dance club but were forced to leave when the music made them shout to each other for any kind of conversation. So they were now currently walking down the street aimlessly, chatting about new programs and their best time for hacking into the FBI files. He was only beating her by a few seconds, but she was going to work on her time as soon as she could. She wondered if Ollie would let her in this late.

"I heard Oliver's back in town," Victor commented.

She looked over at him, brow furrowing for a moment. "Yeah. You haven't talked to him?"

He shook his head. "No, none of the League's seen him in the last few days."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Really? He called me when he got in." She tipped her head. "He had a file he wanted me to look through and then there was an encryption on a disk he had that he needed decoded. Yesterday, he couldn't figure out his coffee maker. And this afternoon…" She trailed off at the expression on Victor's face.

He shook his head with a sigh. "So you and Ollie are pretty close, right?"

She nodded slowly. "I guess."

"That's rare for him," he told her, voice quite serious.

Her brow furrowed. "Rare?"

"He doesn't get close to many. Relies on few." He shrugged, hands burying in his jean pockets.

"With your line of work, that's normal," she said, nodding.

"Yeah, but Oliver is more reserved than the rest of us. We have families and friends. Oliver has… the League," he said, lifting a shoulder. "We're friends of sorts. More of teammates though." He shook his head. "I'm not saying he doesn't care about us. He does. We're probably the closest thing he has to family. But…" He turned to her. "He needs somebody on a more personal level."

She frowned. "I'm sure he could find someone if he really looked." Her brow cocked. "Obviously Lois wasn't the right girl, but there has to be somebody out there who he can trust and rely on that'll be there like he deserves."

Victor stared at her, an expression that she couldn't quite decipher.

Finally, he nodded with a slight smile. "Have you upgraded your laptop yet?" he wondered.

She quirked a smile, shaking her head. Somehow, she knew that he'd just turned their date into a comfortable walk between friends. And she was okay with that.

**V **

They were sitting in his living room; her leaned against the arm of the couch and him beside her. He had just turned the movie on and she was only paying half-mind to the many trailers going across the screen. She could feel the heat of his thigh against the bottom of her feet as her legs sat curled behind her on the couch.

"So I heard you've been quite busy with my team," he said, a half-teasing tone to his voice.

She turned her head to him, frowning when he didn't turn to so much as smile at her but kept his eyes on the screen. "Yeah, I learned superheroes aren't my type."

He turned to her, expression blank.

She lifted her hand, thumb turned to the side while the rest of her fingers were curled against her palm. "I'm officially over Clark." She nodded, her forefinger raising. "AC is a great guy but I think he found the right girl in a fish friendly vegan who was picketing on our date." She laughed, a smile quirking her lips higher as she heard his chuckle. She lifted a third finger. "Bart is like a little brother. Don't get me started on the grossness factor of him having a crush." She shook her head. "And Victor is… a great friend." She nodded with a shrug. "Hence, I've either got to just surrender to the meteor freaks or give up on men all together."

He turned in his seat slightly, lifting a brow. "What a waste," he commented. Were those butterflies in her stomach?

She shifted in her seat, leaning her back against the arm and spreading her legs out in his lap. His hand wrapped around the calf of one automatically. "Yeah, who doesn't want a meddlesome, accident prone reporter?"

He stared at her a moment, his fingers massaging her leg through her pantyhose.

"I do," he told her, eyes serious, no trace of amusement in his face.

She felt her heart stutter. Her eyes widened and her brows lifted. "You… But…"

He smiled slightly. "I have for awhile," he admitted, nodding.

"Awhile?"

"Uh, about a year, give or take a few months." He nodded, clearing his throat.

"Ollie…" she said softly.

"Superheroes aren't you type, right?" His hand tightened around her calf before he let it go and stood up. "I'm gonna make some popcorn."

She sat on the couch in contemplation for a moment. Her mind scanned the various moments he'd been there for her in the last year and a half. She thought of all the moment he'd shown jealousy, concern, friendship, and… Love. The way he'd held her or even yelled at her each time she got hurt, there was something in those brown eyes. The way he gripped her arms and shook her, as if trying to remind her that he couldn't lose her, couldn't go through it again. The way his hands felt as they stroked her hair or her face or sat at the small of her back. How his warmth felt against her side or at her back while he walked with her. She remembered how that voice made her stomach clench and her mouth dry. That wasn't a reaction to a friend. It wasn't how she felt when she was on her dates with Clark, AC, Bart or Victor. She only felt that way when she was with Oliver.

"_Trust me, there's someone else_," Bart had told her.

She hadn't understood but she did now.

She rose from the couch abruptly and walked into the kitchen, her hands wringing in front of her. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes turned down, face stoic. He was cutting himself off, becoming the impenetrable leader type. Nothing could hurt him if he didn't feel. There was fear in each step she took, but resolve followed close behind. She came to a halt in front of him, her eyes on his chest for a moment before raising to meet his. She reached up, her hand cupping his chin, thumb covering the cleft rather adoringly. "You're right. Superheroes aren't my type."

He swallowed tightly, eyes turning away from hers and she could feel his chin quake slightly beneath her grasp before he clenched his teeth.

"But heroes, real men turned heroes…" His eyes returned to hers and she felt her breath leave her. "They could be just what I'm looking for."

There was a quiet pause for only a second before his mouth descended on hers. His hands wrapped around her neck before sliding downward, drawing her body up into an arch against him. They landed on her hips and held her close. Her eyes fell shut as his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue trailing across the seam of her lips, making them part. Their tongues tangled, a heat consuming her from her tongue to her toes. Her arms rose, wrapping around his shoulders, one of her hands burying in his hair. _Oh wow_, she thought. His teeth grazed her tongue, her lips; his tongue was hot and perfect around hers. Their noses brushed and her breath beat against his as they avoided parting for any moment. He was holding her so close he was nearly picking her up off the floor, she was standing up on her tiptoes. She couldn't find fault in that though, considering he felt entirely too good pressed against her body. His hair was softer than she expected and his skin was warm against her fingertips.

Her eyes fluttered open and met his dark brown gaze. Their lips kept meeting in small, lingering kisses until she slid down his chest, her feet finding the floor once more and they simply stood, eyes locked, breathing heavy, arms tight around each other. She licked her lips and his eyes fell to follow the movement before raising back to hers.

"You find your hero yet?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

"Well, there was really only Bruce and Dinah left," she teased, brow quirking.

He grinned, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. His hand lifted, covering her cheek, thumb brushing beneath her eye. "Don't tell me Dinah's your type."

She laughed, eyes crinkling and glittering with amusement. With a content sigh, she shook her head. Her hand ran over his hair, wrapping around the back of his neck. "My track record says I prefer men."

"Broody and dark men?" he asked, brow lifting.

She shook her head slowly, mouth turned up with a smile.

"Well," he murmured, lips so close they were nearly touching hers. "I think you're stuck with me then."

"I'll survive," she whispered before pressing her lips against his.

She'd found her hero; he'd been right in front of her all along.

* * *

**Author's Note**:_ Hope you enjoyed this. Finally! Chloe and Oliver are together! -grins- Sorry for the late update! The next part is "5 Times Chloe and Oliver Were Interrupted," which is M-rated! Luv yas - Fina!_


	4. 5 Times Chloe & Oliver Were Interrupted

**Rating**: M  
**Summary**: Their relationship was a bit complicated... Fate has a sense of humor.

**Five Times Series**

"_Five Times Chloe and Oliver were interrupted_"

**I**

The last thing they expected was to walk in on _that_. Lois and Clark had been hot on the trail of a big story and wanted to share their findings with Chloe, who always seemed to pick it all apart in seconds flat and figure out the deepest, darkest truth before either of them could. But when they entered her office without knocking or any sign of forewarning, they walked in on a naked from the waist up Chloe as she sat, her back to them, lower half currently sitting on Oliver who was gripping her hips tightly, his face buried tight against her chest. The way her hips were gyrating and how she was lifting and falling, it was obvious what was happening.

Lois' eyes widened as she stared at Oliver's mouth surrounding her little cousin's breast. She let out a loud noise from her throat to alert them, screaming silently at her hands to raise and cover her eyes.

Instead they lifted and slapped Clark on the chest with a folder. "Quit staring at my cousin, Smallville!" she practically screamed.

"I wasn't!" he replied, eyes turned off and cheeks flushed.

Chloe turned her head over her shoulder and lifted her brow. "Uh, knocking is good," she told them.

"Definitely something we'll remember in future," Lois said with an awkward laugh as she started backing out of the office. She stopped and glared at Clark who hadn't moved. Reaching out, she grabbed the sleeve of his coat and tugged him back with her.

"Oh, sorry, I- I didn't mean to..." He trailed off uncomfortably. "We just had this story and- and we thought..."

"Not the time, Smallville. Can't you say she's getting her freak on with Oliver?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Lois!" He shook his head, frowning at her.

"What?" She put her hands on her hips, standing in the middle of the doorway.

"Uh guys?" Chloe said, drawing their attention back to her.

Oliver was leaned back against the chair, a hand pressed against his forehead as he sat in strained discomfort. "She'll call you later. Shut the door!" he ordered.

"Right, uh sorry," Lois said, stumbling backwards, only to have Clark right her. "I can do it myself. I've been walking all on my own for twenty years!" she told him, glaring.

"Could've fooled me," he replied, rolling his eyes.

She turned back to smile apologetically at the couple, only to find that they'd given up on waiting and were back to their previous activities. Oliver's hands were sliding up Chloe's back, drawing her body closer to him, just as Lois shut the door and shook her head. "Damn," she whispered.

Clark lifted a brow at her.

"What?" She shrugged. "I'm just saying... They're kind of hot together, hey?"

He sighed, shaking his head.

"You ever do it in a chair, Smallville?"

He choked on air.

**II**

The old saying, "_My eyes! Oh, my eyes!_" came to mind as Lex Luthor stepped into his private office at the benefit he was currently holding for some charity or the other. He was never one for visual shock, but his mouth gaped at the sight of the couple currently using his bookshelf as a brace for their _intimate activities_. At first, he was too shocked that _anybody_ could actually disrespect him that he didn't check to see who it was, but as his eyes fell on their faces, mouths so closely pressed together it made deciphering their identities almost impossible, he realized it was no other than two of the most annoying banes of his existence. He'd heard they were together, but this wasn't how he expected to find the proof toward such gossip.

Queen's hand was slipped beneath the slit of Sullivan's green gown, riding high on her hip now, revealing creamy thigh and a long, toned leg that wrapped around Oliver's hip. His hand was obviously caressing the round curve of Chloe's barely clad butt, fingers slipping beneath the satin of her panties. Lex swallowed tightly, his brows raising high on his forehead. He should stop the spectacle; he really should. But his voice failed him and he gave into his inner voyeur calling for him to just watch a little more. He'd blame it on shock later.

She really was beautiful; he'd always known. But seeing her so responsive to Queen's touch aroused something. Her head fell back, eyes shut tightly and Oliver took advantage to kiss the long, sweet column of her neck. He tenderly lapped at her skin, kissing a path up and around her chin before nipping her lips. She wasn't another of his many former girlfriends, Lex could tell that right away. While Chloe's eyes were still shut, Oliver's were open and gazing down at the beautiful blonde with nothing less than unadulterated love.

Lex cleared his throat; he'd had enough. The last thing he wanted to see was Oliver Queen falling in love with the pesky reporter he held in his arms. "Last I checked, this wasn't a hotel."

Oliver broke apart from Chloe, turning a smirk toward his former classmate. "Our apologies, Lex. After that... _stimulating_ speech you made, we had to get away to... wake up." He furrowed his brows mockingly. "Could've sworn we took that public speaking class together. There was a whole section based on how to keep the crowd awake and interested."

Chloe slapped his chest playfully and he let her leg down so she was standing upright. "Not everybody can have your skills of charm," she teased, smiling up at him warmly.

He grinned at her before turning back to Lex. "I've no doubt you've met my girlfriend," Oliver said, glancing at Chloe who held his hand beside him, readjusting her dress and forcing a stiff smile in Lex's direction.

"Once or twice," she replied sardonically.

"Yes and I've just seen more of her than I ever wanted to," Lex said scathingly. "Going through the whole family, Queen? I believe Lois had a sister."

Oliver's smile didn't slip in the least. "So quick to judge. You of all people shouldn't be throwing stones in a glass house." He lifted Chloe's hand and kissed the back of it. "We should return to the festivities. Who knows what they're doing out there without your fascinating personality to entertain them." He walked past; Chloe nodded her farewell, looking ready to laugh at any moment.

As soon as Oliver left, Lex searched the room for something to throw. Ever since he was a child, he'd hated Oliver Queen with a passion and it only heightened over the years. He never ceased to get one over him and it only opened the wound further. The fact that Queen and Sullivan were now together only turned his gut. They were bound to make his life miserable for the next however long they'd be together. He found himself souring at the thought that he had another gala to go to the following week.

He needed a drink.

**III**

AC and Victor rolled their eyes toward each other, shaking their heads as they came upon the couple who couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other for longer than five minutes. In the beginning, they'd been all for them. It was obvious that Oliver had deep feelings for Chloe. But now, they just wanted them to get a room and stop with the public displays of affection. They were currently using the workout room as their own private make out spot. Sweaty from what they hoped was just exercising, they were sprawled out across the wrestling mats, Chloe's arms pinned down beneath Oliver's large hands as he kissed down her neck and across her collar.

Despite dating for over a year already, they weren't slowing in the show of affection department. A couple months prior, while celebrating their one year, though they had to go to an important gala, the Inquisitor hadn't wasted time in catching them off and enjoying some time alone on the balcony. Front page news, easily. Just the other week, they'd used the elevator for their private indulgence, getting caught up with each other while raising to their apartment only to have it return to the ground floor and then go back up at least six or seven times. It wasn't until the doorman told them that the people walking by on the street could see them that they took it back to the apartment.

Chloe's shirt was pushed up her waist to just beneath her breasts while Oliver was scarce of a shirt entirely. Their fingers lay entwined on the mat beneath them, held high above her head. Since AC and Victor were there to inform the couple of their findings about a certain bald billionaire and another of his warehouses, they couldn't just turn around and leave like they often did. Victor cleared his throat, hoping they'd acknowledge him and separate. Instead, they seemed not to hear at all. Oliver's nose nudged Chloe's workout shirt to the side, his mouth caressing down the pale flesh shown.

Chloe had thankfully been their Watchtower for years and while both boys had strong affection for her, neither of them wanted to see anything that could be revealed if they didn't start speaking up.

"Whoa! Boss, man, hit the pause button!" AC exclaimed, turning his face away.

Chloe's head turned abruptly the side, her eyes opening widely. "Uh, hey," she greeted, voice wobbly and thick.

Oliver rested his head, face down against her chest and laughed. "Tell me this is _incredibly _important," he said, voice muffled.

Chloe's arm detangled from his, her hand raising to run through his hair absently. "Ignore him."

"If you kept it the bedroom, this would happen less often," Victor informed them with a smirk.

"Where's the fun in that?" Chloe asked with a lifted brow.

Oliver turned his head to look up at them. "What have you got?"

Victor and AC glanced at each other. They'd been expecting them to separate and possibly move to the other room.

"Trust me, it's less embarrassing if stays where he is," Chloe told them, smiling.

Dawning feel and the two men flushed.

AC cleared his throat, eyes turning upward. "Well, as usual, you were right, there's another one..."

He had a feeling he'd never look at either of them quite the same again.

**IV**

Chloe was in heaven. She should probably be more alert to her surroundings but she was far too distracted by Oliver's mouth which was currently creating the most incredibly feelings between her thighs. His rough hands held her hips, calloused thumbs grazing her skin randomly, sending a shiver up her back. Her knees were parted widely, toes curling against the picnic blanket beneath her. They'd arrived back at Star City only the day before and were currently enjoying some alone time in the backyard, beneath the shade of a large tree. Lunch had been long forgotten in place of Oliver's wandering hands and attentive mouth. Before she knew it, she was laid out across the red and white checkered blanket, underwear lying in the grass, skirt pushed up to her waist and shirt parted. She could feel the cool breeze whisper over her bare stomach, cool and refreshing against the heat coursing through her body.

He was a magician, she decided. His tongue worked miraculous circles, his lips were smooth and warm, his teeth grazed her just right; he was working so much magic on her heat, she was questioning whether she was even alive any more. Death from incredibly orgasm... After all she'd faced, it was one hell of a way to go out. She wasn't complaining.

Her heels dug into the ground beneath her as his tongue flicked her clit and she moaned from deep on her throat. Her hands clenched the blanket, nearly tearing it before she forced them away. She spread her fingers out over her stomach, as if trying to force herself not to combust right there. Her eyes fell shut, head tipping back, neck straining, as she bit her lip painfully. She could feel him everywhere. In the buzz of her fingertips and the clenching of her thighs. Even her hair seemed to know of the pleasure he was generating.

Nobody had ever made her feel like _this_; this intense pleasure, this incredible burst of love, this naughty need to be with him, whenever, wherever. She couldn't escape it and she wasn't sure she wanted to. It just felt so right when she was with him. As if all of her life, she'd been searching for that one person and now that she found him, she could't imagine anybody else. She couldn't fathom anyone else's tongue swirling aroudn her as his was, or his teeth grazing her folds, her clit, her entire damp center like he was. And more to the point, she couldn't imagine anybody simply _holding _her like he did. With all of himself; strong arms and broad chest and cheek against her hair. When he held her, he really _held _her. Tight and warm and comforting; protective even, but not like Clark's had been. There was more with Oliver than there'd ever been with Clark and she knew that now.

Clark wouldn't be able to evoke the same feelings. Nobody would. Nobody's lips felt like his; nor did their hands or tongues or any part of their bodies. They couldn't make her feel utterly loved and satisfied and complete just by looking at her, not like Oliver could. He took it further, made her feel ten times that with just the brush of his fingers against her shoulder. So having him as he was now, face lying between between her thighs, tongue licking her from top to bottom, inside and out, it was like flying high on a wind of pure ecstasy.

She never wanted it to end, but all the same, she knew as soon as he was done making her squirm and jerk and spasm from head to toe, he was going to be _inside _of her; long and hard and thick as he thrust deep into her wanting heat. And _that _was all the more incredible. She'd never known pleasure like she did when she made love to Oliver. The few men before him were incredibly clumsy and lacking in the knowledge to satisfy her like she needed. But Oliver knew exactly where to touch her and how to make her scream and pant and beg for more. And just as quickly, she'd learned the same about him. There was nobody in the universe, she knew better than him; phyically, emotionally or otherwise. And she relished every second of it.

One of his hands slid from her waist and she was already panting in anticipation. She felt his fingertips skim her folds before one of them thrust inside of her, alongside his lapping tongue. She jerked, letting out a pleasured moan as he inserted a second and just before his third digit filled her entirely, she heard a throat clear and her eyes flew open in shock.

"A-Andrew," she sputtered, so shocked she didn't even think to cover herself.

He wouldn't look at her, in fact his face was directed upward as if he were admiring the tree, but his red face gave him away. "Hello Miss. Sullivan," he greeted, clearing his throat. "So sorry to interrupt, but there's an urgent call for your, Mr. Queen. From a certain Mr. Wayne of Gotham City." He shifted awkwardly on his feet. "He said to get you immediately, no matter what your... er... current position was."

Chloe felt her body flush from head to toe, in embarrassment now rather than incredible pleasure. She could still feel the needy ache between her legs, begging to be sated but she knew the importance of this call. She shifted, lifting up so she was sitting and pushed her skirt down. "Right," she muttered, pushing her hair back behind her ears. She looked down at Oliver who had rolled onto his back, a hand covering his face. Without looking at her, he pointed to the side and she spotted her underwear. She stood up on shaky legs and wobbled over, grabbing them up quickly before turning back to see Andrew standing awkwardly, looking anywhere but at her.

"We'll be right in," she told him, thankful her voice didn't shake.

He nodded quickly before turning and practically running back toward the house. She seriously felt sorry for him. He'd only been working for Oliver the last couple months and that probably wasn't what he expected to walk in on. He was eager and smart and probably going to quit now.

"This is all your fault," she muttered, frowning at Oliver as he laid on the blanket, hand still covering his face.

He laughed. "_My _fault?" He shook his head. "You're the one who wore the skirt," he said, as if it explained everything.

"How is that even an _excuse_?" she asked, laughter filling her voice.

He lifted his hand, smoldering eyes meeting hers and making her insides squirm. That ache was throbbing again, more persistent now. "I can barely restrain myself as it is, but with you wearing a skirt, all it does is remind me how much easier it would be to just..." She shivered, eyes falling to half mass at the many possibilities.

She found herself walking closer, almost out of her control. And then she was standing right next to him and his hand was sliding up her calf, fingers stroking her. She felt her knees wobble, ready to give out. He sat up, hand rising further up her leg, skimming the back of her knee. He rose up to his knees, both of his hands now cupping the back of her thighs and she wondered if she'd actually fall without that support there. He rested his face against her stomach and her hands fell, threading in his hair.

They both knew he'd have to leave in a few seconds, back to work, but she relished in these moments. Where it was just him and her, just Oliver and Chloe. They probably shouldn't be enjoying each other in broad daylight, in the not-entirely-secluded area of his backyard, but sometimes they couldn't help it. She felt his thumbs trace her skin lightly, tenderly. She didn't _want _to help it.

**V**

After the run he'd just made across the world for a few important documents Oliver needed, Bart was seriously in need of some food. He was running on hot dogs and chips and that never filled him up quite as much as needed. So without even thinking it through, he dropped the folders on Watchtower's desk and made his way toward the kitchen, hands rubbing together in anticipation. He was already thinking of all the goodies packed away in the confines of Oliver and Chloe's giant fridge, ready for him to make up some elaborate meal that only _he _would eat. But as he entered the kitchen, his eyes landed on something else entirely.

He'd forgotten they were in town; wasn't expecting them until later. But there they were, completely unknowing of him standing wide eyed in the kitchen doorway. Wearing nothing but a bra and a skirt hiked up her toned thighs, Chloe was leaned back on the kitchen counter, head against the cupboard, arms wrapped around Oliver who was stripped down to a pair of open dress pants, his belt loosened and the zipper down. Oliver was attentively lavishing Chloe's chest, shoulders, and neck with his mouth as his hands roamed up and down her sides, fingers stroking her ribs. The straps of her bra had fallen down her arms, the cups holding her breasts precariously loose, ready to fall at any sudden movement and the rub of Oliver's chest against them wasn't helping.

Bart's throat went dry and alarms went off in his head, but he was too shocked to move. He'd never seen Chloelicious in such a state of undress and well... honestly, he'd known she was beautiful but this was just... Damn it! He should've tried harder! Less cheesy lines and more... whatever it was Oliver did. He snorted, loudly, which made the couple against the counters take notice. Probably a good thing given Chloe's hands were pushing Oliver's pants lower and things were about to get real naked, real quick. Not that he'd mind if Chloe lost the bra and lifted that skirt a little higher, but he wasn't much of a voyeur and seeing Oliver undressed was just... gross.

"Bart!" Chloe shouted, her face a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

He couldn't help it. "Love it when you scream my name, Chloelicious," he replied, smirking. "But not in front of the bossman..." He shook his head. "He's liable to kill me."

She glared at him witheringly and he lifted a shoulder, grinning widely.

"Get. Out." Oliver told him, frowning darkly.

Bart lifted his hands in surrender, he knew what it was like to be right there and ready to go with one very fine mamacita only to have to put the brakes on it. Usually because the JL needed him. This could be averted though and so he backed up out of the room, still grinning, eyes wandering over to Chloe only because well, hell, who wouldn't look? He would've laughed at the strain on Oliver's face if he didn't know he'd probably kill him... if he could catch him, that is. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he couldn't resist shouting out, "Dude, this is gonna be a great story for the guys!"

He sped up before he could hear Chloe chastise him, laughing to himself. Now the guys couldn't say he was the only one out of the group who hadn't walked in on some serious Chloe/Oliver action! He'd officially made the ranks of the "Whoops - didn't need to see that!" group. Way to go him; he was gonna celebrate with a big lunch, courtesy of Oliver's gold card.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Been awhile since I updated this, I know. I had it partly done but then got sidetracked, so here it is. Finally. Hope you liked it! Reviews are sustenance, readers! Luv yas - Fina!_


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